


The Reward of a Thing Well Done

by drinkingstars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Drunken Shenanigans, Frottage, Los Angeles Kings, M/M, Marijuana, Open Relationships, improbable anatomical positions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1840546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkingstars/pseuds/drinkingstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tanner nods slowly, finally looks him in the eye again, glad that’s all that has to be said and it’s as good as explained. “It’s the thing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reward of a Thing Well Done

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Young Buck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047370) by [wearemany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearemany/pseuds/wearemany). 



> hopefully a fair tribute and side piece to her amazing Rookies ‘verse, which starts there.  
> you don't have to have read that first to read this, but it'd be a lot cooler if you did.
> 
>  
> 
> [all brought about by this exact moment after Game 4 of Round 1](https://38.media.tumblr.com/534419803febf48d613ed8789c146eed/tumblr_n7lle5HGJg1tc1f90o1_400.gif)  
> 

They get one against San Jose at home, and it finally feels real. Tanner knows, as Quickie draws him to a smooth, gliding stop on his skates, mask to his face to say something like, _alright kid, another day_ , that it won’t always feel this good, or this tenuous. Tanner watches his mouth and gets the gist of it, that’s it’s scary but it’s good enough for now and he didn’t fuck anything up - plus he was on the ice for Toff to get a birthday goal - not a bad outing.

They skip the bars, coach’s orders, and hole up in Drew’s place. For them so far in the playoffs this might as well be the Big One, and they celebrate it accordingly.

Tanner swivels in a creaky porch chair, long legs propped on Drew’s rooftop, trying to make out if the low _swaash_ sounds he can make out streets away are actually the waves, or just traffic. A few rounds of birthday Fireball shots and bong hits in, and he’s feeling good, warm and mellow. Tyler is flung across Joner’s lap in a chaise lounge, their fingers intertwined, laughing hysterically at something no one can make sense of but them tonight, not even Tanner. Drew shakes his head and snorts at them, gets up to go do something inside the house and calls after Quickie to come with him.

Quickie sighs and swears and rolls his eyes. He slowly, eventually swings one leg down off his chaise, just leaves it there like he’s not sure he can muster the energy for the other. Tanner peels himself out of his chair and extends him a hand. He grips it tightly, and with some basic applied physics, is able to wrench himself up to his feet.

Quickie pats Tanner’s shoulder in understood thanks, but looks just past him to squint over at Toff and Joner. He tips his chin in their direction and grins at Tanner out of one corner of his mouth, “what the fuck is their deal?”

Tanner feels a little more buzzed now that he’s standing, looks at them, then softly back at Quickie, and shrugs. “I dunno...you know. The usual.” Quickie seems to mull that over while focusing his eyes back on Tanner, straightening his posture after a moment and cuffing his hand around the back of Tanner’s neck to pull him along into the house.

\---

It seems what Drew wanted was someone to play Black Ops with, but Lewie is already at it with him. Tanner meanders, talks shit and does another shot with Carts in the kitchen, meanders some more. He rounds a corner and suddenly Quickie grabs him by the arm and pulls him into his chair with him. Right across his lap, and that’s just how it is. It happens - and it’s easy and oddly comforting when it does - a guy you never really knew that well being the body you press against in the foxhole when shit is intense.

Drew comes by on a game break, rolls his eyes and grumbles about everyone making out in his house but him, but still passes them both fresh beers on his way back. Tanner shoves his in the corner of the chair between Quickie’s back and the cushion, braces himself carefully in his lap. Tanner looks at his mouth as he talks - he’s still him after all. He’s got interests.

“So what’s _your_ deal?” Quickie finally asks him. His thumb picks at the label on his beer, fingers drumming behind Tanner’s back.

Tanner shrugs, looks up from his chest to stare at his mouth again before finally meeting his gaze. “Uhhh, I don't know. You know.”

“Yeah, I know. The usual. So...those guys?” He motions with his head, up, toward the back, toward the ocean.

Tanner turns over in his mind what to say to that. It’s his business, but on this team, nothing is really his own. If Quickie is asking, he has a reason, and that alone has Tanner intrigued.

What Tanner knows about Jon Quick is that he is intense, hard on himself, and generally seems to keep quiet because once he starts talking, he’s pretty weird. He’s thinking about that and watching Quickie’s mouth, uses the pretense of readjusting his weight to rock back a little and slip one arm around his shoulder onto the back of the chair. Quickie automatically puts one hand on Tanner’s hip to steady him, slides it to rest at his lower back.

“Uhh..yeah, you know how it is,” Tanner begins, taking a sip of his beer when he realizes he doesn’t know how to finish.

Richie sidles through from the kitchen, slowing down and cocking his head ever so slightly, levels a weird look at Quickie that lingers a little too long. Tanner squirms and looks down, tries to pretend he didn’t see it but he can feel his cheeks flushing, feels Quickie's palm tense against the small of his back, fingers flexing.

"Whaaaaaaaaaaat..." Quickie kind of laughs, a slow drawl and a lick of his lips. He looks up at Tanner dubiously, takes a drink of his beer. "I meant like a _usual_ kind of thing. Joner and your boys. That’s...how did _that_ happen?"

He motions across the room where Richie has Carts cornered, their conversation muted in the dark. Tanner sees Jeff's big hand settle on Mike's hip, sees him smirk. He swallows, looks back down at Quickie.

"I dunno...it's just a...a thing." He ducks his head, feels his face flush red high in his cheeks. "I don't know...you might not like, uh, get it."

Quickie pulls back a bit as if to survey this strange person in his lap, furrowing his brow. He scrutinizes Tanner for a few long moments, then lifts his beer back to his mouth, finishing the rest of it. He sets the bottle down beside him, puts his hands on Tanner's hips, and in one swift move, has him off his lap and standing in front of him. Tanner tests his feet and wobbles, but Quickie holds him firm.

"Don't fucking offend me, man," Quickie leans in, hand steadying Tanner's chest and cold beer-damp lips against his hot neck. "Try me."

\---

In one of Drew’s guest rooms, Quickie sits cross-legged on the bed, somewhat clumsily rolling a joint so small Tanner has to laugh. "Awww, it’s so cute."

Quickie looks up lazily, eyes dragging over and up until he squints at Tanner with a little twisty grin. “Big enough for you, kid."

“Yeah yeah,” Tanner answers, brushing off his teasing, straightens himself against the doorframe.

Quickie looks up from what he’s doing, joint dangling from the corner of his lips and gives Tanner a once over. “Nah, you’re good. I see you...you got some stuff.”

“I do?” Tanner says with a quirk in his voice, knowing he’s probably flirting pretty shamelessly now and not caring.

Quickie finally lights the damn thing, taking a long slow pull off it that burns about half the length up in one breath. Holds it, passes it over to Tanner, then finally exhales.

“Yep. You’re big. You’re fast as fuck. And you like to mix it up, get into everything. Good combination.”

Tanner sucks in on the joint, tries to pinch it with his thumbnail so he doesn’t burn himself. He takes a thoughtful hit of smoke and passes it back, doesn’t hold it too long because he doesn’t want to cough. “Didn’t get me much tonight,” he says as he exhales.

“Yeah but didn’t fuck you up tonight. I fucked up...one, two, three times. Three that count, anyway. You can probably get one more there,” he says, hands off the little stub of the joint.

“Happens,” Tanner shrugs. He nudges the door to with his ankle and moves in to take it from Quickie.

He takes one more hit, snuffs it out in a shot glass on the desk, moves to sit next to him on the bed. Quickie stops him with a hand, again on his arm, pulls him flush against him so Tanner has to straddle his legs to fit.

“I liked you right here,” Quickie kind of drawls, running his hands up Tanner’s arms.

“I’ll be right here then,” Tanner blurts, head dropping to his chest before he realizes what’s come out of his mouth. Quickie looks, for lack of a better word, shocked, but Tanner thinks it’s mostly for play.

“Oh really?”

“God, sorry. Uhh, I’m very...agreeable.”

“Ahh. I get it. That like...a thing?”

Tanner nods slowly, finally looks him in the eye again, glad that’s all that has to be said and it’s as good as explained. “It’s the thing.”

“Got it.” Quickie chews on his lip, twists his mouth at the corners. His eyes twinkle when he thinks. “Wait you mean like, handcuffs and stuff?”

Tanner kind of shakes his head side to side like, _yeah_ , _sure, could be_. “Like you said, I get into everything,” Tanner says, trying not to act like he feels as ridiculous as he does.

“That could...huh. That sounds a little fancy for tonight. But I can tell you what to do and to shut the fuck up, if you want,” Quickie craws, semi-serious and obviously proud of himself for getting with the program. It’s still a little weird though, and Tanner’s not sure what he’s getting into.

Quickie isn’t someone he thought about like this, honestly. Not like Richie, or even Carts sometimes. Quick wasn't really on his radar except as a great goalie out there in the league, then a teammate, one he relied on and would do his best to be reliable to. Goalies are in their own world sometimes - with Joner it was different since they came up from Manch together - they were rookies in their own world and that trumps everything. Plus he knows Quickie’s married, but that seems to be more of a fluid thing than Tanner ever considered.

“Ah ah. Close the fucking door all the way,” Quickie stops him as he’s moving to seat himself further onto Quickie’s lap, maybe see what his neck smells like.

Tanner nods emphatically and slides back off him. “Shit. Yeah, yes.”

“Don’t fucking talk now.”

“Ok.” Tanner goes quiet, still, waits for instruction. He’s kind of confused.

“Stop thinking so much, fuck. Alright come here.” Quickie pulls him in again, catches him between his open knees. Tanner watches heavily as Quickie pulls his shorts open, slides them down his legs, along with his underwear. Tanner helps a little, pulls his shirt off over his head. The room air is cool against his bare skin. Quickie pauses, looks up and down his body with a low rumbling kind of sound.

Tanner hums at the feel of his body reacting, thrumming with energy where he was stoned and sluggish feeling before, leans in close to get more of it. Quickie smells like cinnamon whisky and smoky things and kind of overwhelming. He wraps his hands around Tanner’s sides, rubs his palms over his ribs and Tanner is just realizing how badly he wants Quickie to kiss him when instead he pushes him gently back, hands on his abs.

Tanner hangs his head down, open mouth and heavy breath, feels Quickie’s hands move to his wrists.

“Arms behind your back.” Tanner bends a little so Quickie can reach all the way around him, maybe a little over eagerly, his hopeful mouth open near Quickie’s face. Quickie laughs, pulls back.

“Uh uh. No kissing.” Tanner’s more than a little disappointed. He loves kissing and being kissed. But it seems something good is about to happen to his dick, so he can let it go for now. He crosses his wrists behind his back obediently, straightens up again, though with a bit of a scowl.

“Good, good. Now don’t fucking move.” Quickie strokes down his hip and ass, digs into the back of his thigh with one hand, wraps the other one around the base of his cock, and takes it all the way in his mouth.

Tanner squeezes his eyes shut tight, bites his tongue and holds on, still and quiet, as Quickie works his mouth around him. He has definitely done this before, which gives Tanner a thrill for some reason. He feels his erection still swelling to all the way its full size, no doubt filling the back of Quickie’s mouth now, the way he’s going for it. He opens his eyes and watches as Quickie pulls back, draws his mouth tight all the way along the length, sucks along the ridges of the head like he loves it. Tanner has to remind himself to keep his hands where Quickie put them.

Quickie looks up through heavy lashes, catches Tanner's eye just long enough to warn him, "don't fucking move alright?" Tanner nods enthusiastically and Quickie lets go with his hand and goes _all_ the way down on him, the head of his cock rubbing the back of Quickie's hard palate as he slides his throat and mouth up and down around him. It's tight and wet and so fucking good Tanner struggles to be still, to not reach down and grab his hair, his jaw. He’s stoned and getting blown so _fucking_ well and he wants to _touch_ now.

He lets out a whimpering sound and a stutter of his hips that he can’t help and Quickie pulls off again, gives him a withering look, a slick of spit trailing from his lips to his rough beard. "Good, right?"

Tanner looks down, trying to make sense of such a ridiculous question and why on earth Quickie stopped.

"What? Fuck...yeah. Do you want me to, I can..." Tanner offers, confused. _Yes it's very good please do it some more?_

"No no no no, I know what we're gonna do," Quickie answers, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth.

Those are the best words Tanner could hear. _Oh thank god_ , he thinks.

Quickie stands up, turns him around, starts to guide him down. “Hands over your head. Hold that thing."

The bed in this room is one of those faux-antique iron canopy things from Pottery Barn - either a girlfriend or a mom must have picked it out. Tanner sprawls out long on the bed, grabs hold of two of the metal rungs behind him, and slides his ass down until he's comfortably extended.

Quickie drops his own shorts, fists roughly over his own cock a couple of times while shaking out his legs, and then climbs on, fully straddling Tanner. He’s heavy, but it’s fucking amazing being held down by him, and Tanner can’t help an actual gasp when Quickie takes both their cocks together in one big hand, starts jerking them both off.

Tanner doesn't think he's done this like this...definitely not in this position, because, well, who could? It's fucking hot and he can watch _everything_ and Jesus, Quickie is flexible. He rocks his weight slightly against Tanner's body, the rhythm building along with the motion of his hand, slipping over their sensitive skin.

It's getting so good, quiet in his head and weightless in his body, when Quickie freezes suddenly. Stops his movement and squeezes a little over-excitedly to get Tanner’s attention. “Hey have you heard of edging???”

Tanner’s mouth falls open, unable to hide how flustered he is, and his face must look absolutely horrified. He tries to sputter out a response but can only get out, “What? Fucking...what?” before Quickie relents, giggles like a fucking sociopath.

“I’m just fucking with you, no fucking way. Your face though,” he’s literally cackling to himself as he goes back to jerking them both off, right where he left off, and Tanner can’t help but exhale a loud series of swears of relief.

“Jesus fuck Quickie, my life like, flashed…”

“I know I know, ok shut up though. Still with the not talking, remember?” He rolls his hips forward a little further and shoves the fingers of his free hand into Tanner’s mouth to shut him up. Tanner sucks them in greedily, still kind of laughing inside. Quickie is _terrible_ at this, and it’s hilarious to him for some reason. But it's fun and it feels fucking great as soon as Quickie gets going again, his hand on their cocks and his eyes on Tanner's mouth, watching him shamelessly as he sucks those fingers.

Quickie leans lower, whispers something quietly dirty that sets Tanner _right_ off, "you like that, don't you?" way closer to coming than he was even a second ago. He has no idea if he’s supposed to wait or what, because Quickie hasn’t told him what to do. He tamps it down and swallows around the fingers in his mouth, sucking and licking until Quickie catches up.

Quickie watches him closely, speeds up a bit more, grunting as his wrist and arm flex and his thumb drags over the heads of both of their cocks every stroke. He slides the fingers in and out of Tanner's mouth, drags at Tanner’s full bottom lip with the tip of his thumb, and folds over him, closing and filling the space between their bodies, warmth and friction around their dicks.

“You come first, ok?”

Tanner nods feverishly, makes an _mmmm_ sound and flicks the tip of his tongue out to lick at Quickie’s fingers while he still can. Quickie grins and nods, offers him back the fingers, says something like “oh, don’t worry,” that manages to sound both promising and incredibly dirty.

Tanner takes the fingers in his mouth, looks away from Quickie's face and down to where their dicks are squeezed together in his hand, bears down with his muscles the way he knows how and then lets go, moaning and shuddering around the fingers in his mouth as he comes over both their hands. Quickie slows his movement a little but keeps going, coaxing him along with his thumb on the tip and some filthy muttering Tanner can’t make any sense of in his state.

He floats there a while, relaxes his grip on the headboard a little to stretch and let the blood flow back into his fingers, enjoys the heaviness of Quickie still straddling him. He opens his eyes. Quickie's fingers are working slowly over the head of his own cock, still hard, slick and messy now with Tanner’s come, just enough to keep himself going while he waits for him, grinning, looking smug.

Tanner gives him a nod, simple. Quickie releases Tanner’s now softer cock from his grip, rolls his whole body up and forward from the hips like Tanner's seen him do in the crease a hundred times, and then, _shit_ , he's right over his mouth and all Tanner has to do is part his lips.

"S'ok, right?" Quickie asks at the last second. Tanner gulps and groans in acquiescence, _yes, fuck yes_ , he tries to somehow intone with his murmurs as his eyelids flutter shut and he takes Quickie down. He sucks, swirls his tongue, tries to relax his throat like Quickie did and let him in, let him have as much as he wants.

Quickie babbles a steady stream of profanity, fucks into his mouth a few more times. He starts to come in Tanner's throat, almost more than Tanner can take but Quickie plants his arms, finds some muscles he can somehow leverage enough to pull back, gets Tanner pretty good with it on his cheeks, his swollen red lips.

Tanner lets go - he has to or they're going to hurt each other pretty spectacularly right now - holds Quickie around his waist and hips, helps roll him over onto his back. They manage to get one leg down, Quickie's other leg dangling off the bed. Tanner tries to prop himself up but fails, his arm going out from under his head.

"Whoa. Ok." All he can actually say. He feels dumb, but he is wrecked.

Quickie laughs and pulls him over on top of him, kisses him absolutely fucking stupid, licking at the corners and inside of Tanner's mouth, clearly tasting himself and not caring. Maybe he likes it. Tanner has no idea but kissing him is fantastic. He finally touches, wherever he wants, his lazy fingers in Quickie's rough beard, his tongue in his mouth. He feels stoned all over again.

\---

“We should probably, uh…” Tanner starts, feeling his cheeks flush again, awkwardly, kind of motioning toward the door.

Quickie opens one eye, looks Tanner over once more like he’s trying to make sure that just happened. “Eh I’m staying right here. Jackie doesn’t want me comin’ home like this...’is basically my room anyway. Can you grab a towel? Bathroom on the..shelfy...thing.”

Quickie gives his neck a little squeeze, cups the warm skin on his cheek before letting him go.

Drew’s guest room proves surprisingly well-stocked and neatly organized. He goes for two washcloths with a little cool water on them, tosses one to Quickie and wipes his face off with the other. Quickie throws the bedspread on the floor, cleans himself up, and tosses the used washcloth behind an armchair in the other corner of the room.

“Dewey’ll find that in like two months,” Quickie cackles, laughing at himself. Tanner laughs too, because Quickie’s an asshole but so is he.

Quickie moves the pillows back where they belong and collapses into them. “You could stay too. If you want.”

“Uh...really?”

“It’s cool. I like to cuddle.”

Tanner thinks of a few dozen reasons this is a bad idea, but he’s already knee-walking onto the bed, scooching up next to Quickie in the fresh sheets.

“Guys’ll wonder…” Tanner starts, half-heartedly but already feeling the cool crispness of soft, expensive pillowcases luring him down. Quickie’s body turns over against his, his chest along Tanner’s back. A strong arm around Tanner’s chest, where he can bring his own hand to stroke and touch, seals the deal, Quickie mouthing a kiss at the back of his neck and mumbling as he falls hard asleep, “let ‘em wonder.”


End file.
